


Just Tears and Rain

by NahaFlowers



Category: The Hour
Genre: Angst, Do I write anything other than gratuitous Bel Rowley angst? The answer is no, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gratuitous Bel angst. Early s2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Tears and Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for williamholmes on Tumblr.

“Bel?”

Bel thought she had done quite well that day, all things considered. She’d come in even earlier than usual to get a head start (and avoid everyone else, especially Freddie), she had let the voices floating down the hallway of Freddie telling everyone else he was married (MARRIED!) to a French girl he had met in Paris barely 3 months ago wash over her as she bent over her type writer, determinedly typing out what turned out to be pages of rubbish. She had grit her teeth and forced a smile when Isaac had commented on how wonderful it was about Mr Lyon, and she had simply rolled her eyes when Lix gave her an all too knowing look as she popped her head round the door to say she was leaving for the day. Lix has raised her eyebrows right back at her and muttered a quick “here if you need me darling” before disappearing out of the office and into the night. Bel couldn’t quite appreciate the offer at the moment, but she was sure she would do later.

When Lix was gone, Bel was certain she was alone. It wasn’t much different to other nights really; Hector had left hours ago, as had Isaac and Sissy, and Randall had announced his departure not long before Lix, and she was left working late, as always. After all, that was how she liked it.

The only person she hadn’t heard or seen leaving was Freddie, which stung a bit, but she supposed he was too eager to get home and see his new wife to bother with pesky things like old friends.

Her anger at him surged through her veins; how dare he be so careless, so thoughtless! How dare he not even tell her that he was getting married! But the anger had been in her for days now, since the moment he got back; it was present in their every interaction and it exhausted her. She’d reached her limit. Sighing, she fumbled in the drawer under her desk for some alcohol to drown her sorrows. Her hand couldn’t seem to find the bottle and she managed to give herself a paper cut for her troubles. Eventually she gave up, laying her head on the desk, thinking perhaps she’d try and get some rest, here, where she was most at home, since she had barely managed a wink of sleep in her cold, lonely flat the past two nights. Instead, and almost to her surprise, she started crying, set off as much by the small, inconsequential annoyances as by the thing that was really bothering her, smothering her so she couldn’t sleep, could barely work, couldn’t think of anything else.

Freddie, her best friend, the man she _loved_ (even if she would only admit it in her head, or in a letter that she would never send) was married. MARRIED. She let the squall of misery overcome her, and sobbed with the grief of it.

That, of course, was when Freddie came in. He hadn’t left, as Bel had thought, but was still at Lime Grove, working; he had merely popped down to the cafe to get himself a cup of the sludge that passed for coffee down there. Now he was back, reasoning that he still had a lot of work to do, especially since he had to catch up on what had been going on since he’d been gone, and not wanting to go home to Camille just yet, and wanting to stick around with Bel (who was still here, of course she was still here; if anyone in the BBC worked harder than Freddie it was Bel Rowley) had nothing to do with it.

Anyway, he mused, even if he did want to spend more time with Bel, what of it? She was his best friend, and they hadn’t seen each other in ten months! It would be nice to talk properly, like they used to; they barely had time at work, obviously the news was most important so that came first, and when Bel had come round to his on Saturday she had scarpered almost as soon as he had introduced her to Camille. He wanted to explain that more, to talk about his trip, discuss just how he’d “rearranged himself” as Bel had put it. And he wanted answers too. Why hadn’t she replied to his letters?

His thoughts vanished in a puff of smoke, however, when he got back into the office and heard the unmistakable sound of someone - no, not just someone, Bel - crying. He hurried into her office without thinking, without even stopping to set his coffee down.

“Bel?” he asked, distressed. She looked up, her eyes darting towards and quickly away from him like a frightened deer. “What’s wrong?”

Bel almost laughed. Almost. She even let out a snort but then the horrendous mess that this situation was caught up with her and she started sobbing again, harder than before, helpless before him. She wished she could be anywhere else but here, in front of anyone else but him, but most of all, she wished she could just stop crying. She had always been vulnerable in front of Freddie; he had more of her heart than anyone else had ever been allowed, or able to take; but she had never been completely helpless. She looked up at him again, trying to say something, anything, to take the agonised look from his face, but the sobs just kept on coming.

“Bel,” Freddie whispered, coming round to sit on her desk next to her. His hand felt its way into her hair almost of its own volition and started stroking. Bel sobbed even harder, if that was possible, but she leant into his hand, which was a start, Freddie supposed. They just stayed like that until Bel’s crying subsided and eventually stopped, except for an odd wet hiccupping sound every few seconds that eventually made the two of them burst out laughing. When that had stopped Bel just leaned her head against Freddie, enjoying the contact (and feeling a little guilty about that) but mostly just unwilling to look Freddie in the eye.

Freddie looked down at her, and asked the hard question, as he always did. “Bel, what’s wrong?”

Bel was silent for a moment and Freddie waited urgently for her answer, a sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach as the silence stretched on. Eventually she gathered the courage to lift her head slightly and, still not looking him in the eye, mumbled “I don’t know. Everything’s just a bit stressful at the moment.” It was, technically, the truth, but it somehow also managed to avoid a lot of that at the same time.

“Don’t try that with me, Bel,” he said, reproachfully. “That’s not- I’ve never seen you like that before. I mean, I’ve seen you sad, and I’ve seen you upset, and I’ve seen you cry, but never like that. Don’t tell me this is just work stress.”

Bel was looking down at her desk, studiously avoiding his gaze and the question, so Freddie placed his hand on her chin and guided it up so she had to look at him. The gesture felt surprisingly intimate and they both shivered at the contact. Had it been like this before? How had they forgotten how to be together so quickly?

“Freddie- I-”

Freddie just looked at her, waiting expectantly.

She just teared up again, unable to speak.

Freddie searched her eyes, and seeing she wasn’t going to speak, said “Why didn’t you reply to any of my letters?”

Bel looked down again, grief overtaking her body. After all, what good would it do answering now? It would just cause more pain for both of them. So she stayed silent, as she had when he had asked her the same question just after he’d got back, as she had remained (as far as Freddie knew anyway) in response to his letters. 

Sighing, Freddie stood up, walking over to Bel’s notice board. He glanced over it for a moment, finger sliding from clipping to clipping, then dropped his hand down by his side. Turning around, without looking at Bel, he said “I’m going home.” He chanced a glance at Bel, who was nodding at her desk. “And you should too,” he finished quietly, tiredly. He pushed the door then changed his mind, turned around again. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “We’re meant to be best friends.”  
Bel managed to snort at that. It was better than crying again, anyway. “I didn’t think best friends went swanning off around the world for ten months with barely a word.” Her voice was sarcastic, cutting, and she meant it to be. She wanted it to hurt, to lash out at him because she was hurting.

“I sent you two letters!” Now Freddie was the one with tears in his eyes.

“Yes. Two letters. In TEN MONTHS. That’s hardly what I’d call regular correspondence, Freddie.”

“Well, you didn’t write to me at all! I heard nothing from you for ten months! How do you think that felt, Bel?”

“You left!”

“And that meant what? That our friendship was over for you?”

“No! I- just- I didn’t know if you even wanted me to write. You said you wanted to get away from everything. As far as I knew, that meant me as well!” And there she went, her voice breaking again, part of Bel thought dryly.

“You’re just making excuses!” Freddie was properly tearful now. “What about after I sent the letters? Did you still think that then? Or did they not reach you?”

“I didn’t know what to say!”

“How about the truth, Bel?”

“I tried, Freddie, I really did, but-”

“But what?”

The silence extended between them as they stared at each other, choking them. Freddie waited for an answer with bated breath, some kind of explanation for this whole dire situation. Bel knew already that she wasn’t going to say anything; she couldn’t say anything. She had sworn she would never be a mistress again, never get between a married man and his wife again and now here was Freddie, a married man. The tears started falling again and this time Bel didn’t even make an attempt to stop them. She was hoping Freddie would just leave, but of course Freddie wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be Freddie, if he did. He just stood there. Waiting. So she had to speak.

“Please just go, Freddie.”

Freddie hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave Bel in this state, tears tumbling down her face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Bel put her foot down.

“There’s nothing you can say, or do, to make it better,” she said between big, gasping breaths. “So please, please, just go.”

Freddie looked like the bottom had just dropped out of his world. But he turned and left, because if anyone could make Freddie Lyon listen to them, it was Bel Rowley. Every fibre in his body wanted to stay there and be there for her, but she told him to go. So he went.


End file.
